


Release

by felisblanco



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-11
Updated: 2004-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-19 16:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: A trip down memory lane gives unexpected results.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Here's a little number I tossed off recently.."_
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> This was gonna be a funny fic for [](http://willa-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://willa-writes.livejournal.com/)**willa_writes** but then it turned all serious. It's still yours though, sweetie.
> 
> Many thanks to [](http://evilmaniclaugh.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://evilmaniclaugh.livejournal.com/)**evilmaniclaugh** for beta'ing

The sound of laughter comes seeping through the corridors. It makes people stop in their tracks and listen. It's been a long time since such happy sounds were heard in Wolfram and Hart.

If they ever were.

In this place, laughter or even a smile usually means someone else's misfortune -- and since the company was turned over to the new CEO even that has disappeared. So when hearing this open heartfelt laughter they just can't help wondering what, in this gloomy building, could make anyone so happy. And so it is that when Angel comes out of his office he finds the open space void of its usual busy traffic. At first he thinks maybe everyone had skittered due to another clever plan of Eve's to blow them up but then he hears the commotion coming from the cafeteria. Quietly, he makes his way toward the door and then opens it slowly.

"...no, luv. The bra is in the LEFT drawer." The roars of laughter come rolling towards him but suddenly die away when they notice him watching them. Slowly they all try to melt away fast enough for him not to remember their faces. Who knows who's head will roll next.

"Hello there, peaches. You really do brighten up the place, you know." The smirk on Spike's face doesn't falter as he swings his legs down from the table and stands up. "Ever considered trying out for open-mike night?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Was running a bit low on blood and figured you'd have some extra." Spike downs the last drops and then licks his lips. "Love the otter. You really live the good life now, huh?"

He walks over to the sink and rinses out the mug...and not just any mug, Angel's [#1boss](http://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%231boss) mug. The older vampire growls in his mind, but decides to let it slide for now. His curiosity is getting the better of him.

"What were you telling them? What was so funny?" Damn, he sounds like a kid.

"Maybe later, mate. Wouldn't want to ruin that whole broody mood you've got going for ya." Spike puts the mug on the counter and walks pass him and out into the foyer. Angel has to jog to catch up with him.

"I'm not brooding," he growls.

"Not now, anyway," he adds as an afterthought.

"Really?" Spike cocks his head and studies him as he waits for the elevator to arrive. "Huh, could have fooled me."

"I don't brood all the time, contrary to what you think. Just...occasionally."

"Whatever you say." Spike holds his hands up in defeat, his face completely blank.

So how does Angel know he's really laughing at him?

As the doors open and Spike step in, Angel just can't help following him. "I don't!"

"Look, Angel. I hate to tell you...who am I kidding, I love to tell you. Everyone here either loathes or fears you. And it's not because of your oh-so-sweet attitude."

"They fear me? I mean... it's good, they should...they loath me?"

"Now don't sound so hurt, thought that was what you were going for. After all, you are the CEO of the world’s most evil law firm."

"We're turning it non-evil and being CEO doesn't mean I'm evil...They loath me?"

"Maybe not all of them. I reckon your former AI friends still like you. Fred even said you're cute. No, wait. She said Puppet-you was cute."

"Not me? I mean, I'm not cute!"

"That's what I said. Weren't you listening?"

By now they're down in the parking lot and Angel can't help wincing when he remembers that his beautiful Viper is gone, wrecked by the very same person he's apparently following like a puppy. He has this feeling he's supposed to be in a meeting somewhere but when Spike looks up at him from the driver’s seat of his new BMW he walks over to the other side and sits in beside him.

"Now what I would do is lighten up a little. No offense, mate, but look at you!"

"What's wrong with how I look?" Angel stares down at his Armani suit, the hurt look on his face almost making Spike giggle.

"Well, first off, you're wearing stripes, mate. You might be an office bloke now, but you're still a vampire, Angelus. Remember? Leather, silk, velvet. What's the use of having these heightened senses and not using them, you get my drift."

"I wear silk."

"I'm not talking about the tie, poof. I'm talking about velvet shirts caressing your chest, leather hugging your thighs, silk tingling against your..." Spike lets his gaze drop down.

"You don't." Angel cuts in, hoping to distract Spike long enough for his bulge to lessen.

"Don't exactly have the bob, do I? In case you haven't noticed, this is all I've got. But I wasn't talking about your outfit. Was talking about the whole you, Angel."

"The whole me what?

"The whole 'I'm-the-boss-and-if-you-look-at-me-funny-I'm-gonna-chop-your-head-off' thing."

"Oh, that."

"Exactly. Would it kill you to show a smile once in a while? Come on "Angel-cakes", how about it? Ok, that's not a smile."

"Yes it is."

"Maybe if this was 1890 and you were just about to do a Bloody-Mary. With Mary the milk maid."

"This is how I smile. I can't do it any different."

"Now, you know that's not true. How about this? I manage to get you to grin like an idiot before the sun rises and you dress up in leather and dark velvet for the whole day tomorrow."

"And if you can't?"

"Then... I'll go away and you don't have to see me again." Angel looks at him but Spike's staring at the road, no expression on his face.

"Now that's a prize worth winning." Did Spike flinch? Angel studies his face in silence but whatever it was it doesn't show again. "Where are we going?"

"For a drink... or several." He slows down, takes a right turn and parks in an alley.

"Are you gonna park here? You know, there's a limit to how many cars I'll lend you."

"Relax, I had it made theft-proof. Anyone other than me tries to touch it, they're out for a surprise. Wanna try?"

"Hmmm, I'll take your word for it." Angel follows Spike through the dark alley, trying to fight the impulse to stalk ahead, since he doesn't really know where they're going. Finally Spike leads him to a locked door where they are let in after Angel pays the bouncer. As soon as he gets inside he can't help groaning. On a stage lit with pink neon lights, girls clad in g-strings and various nipple ornaments are dancing. Of course. Where else would Spike go?

Spike is leaning on the bar, ordering a bottle of the most expensive Scotch, again pointing to Angel to pay while he finds them a table.

"Spending my money is not gonna make me smile, Spike."

"You always were a cheap bastard. I just figured since getting tanked-up is a big part of my cunning plan, you'd like to do it in the most pleasurable manner possible. You'd rather get pissed on Budweiser?"

"God, no." Angel can't help shuddering. "So this is your plan? Getting me drunk while watching strippers? I can tell you right away, it won't work."

"What?" Spike looked over his shoulders up at the stage. "Oh, them. You can watch them if you like. No, I was thinking of something quite different. We're gonna play a game I like to call 'A Little Trip Down Memory Lane'."

"I think you can go home and pack your things right away, Spike. My memories won't make me smile. I wouldn't have thought yours would either."

"That depends upon what memories we're talking about." Spike looks through his pockets until he finds his cigarettes. There are only two left, he lights them both and hands one over.

"I don't smoke," Angel says but takes it anyway. For a while they sit in silence, smoking and drinking. "So what memories were you thinking of?"

"Are we drunk?"

"No."

"Then we're not playing yet."

Spike fills up both their glasses and drinks down his share in one swift gulp. Angel wants to tell him whiskey really should be treated with more respect but he has this notion that he'll either get laughed at or punched so he follows suit. It burns in his throat, but it's a pleasant burn, warming his cold body all the way down to his... god, not again. Spike is scanning the area so he adjusts himself quickly, hoping against reason that it goes unnoticed.

"Nice, innit?"

"What?" Angel says, cursing the panic in his voice.

Spike looks him over with a raised eyebrow, his blue eyes lingering for a tad longer on his crotch, one nostril flutters slightly. Then he smiles and goes back to looking at the other guests. "This place. Maybe not exactly your class, but the drink's good and no one bothers ya."

"We could get that at home." Spike looks at him and Angel suddenly realises what he's said. "Not...not that I'm inviting you home. I meant..."

"Relax, Angel. You're like a school girl on her first date."

"We're not on a date!" Angel growls and quickly stands up, but he must have been more drunk than he thought 'cause the room spins and he falls back on the chair.

"I know." Spike leans over the table and his eyes glint seductively. "But you wish, don't ya?"

"What? No!" Angel wants to move away but the blue eyes seem to draw him in and he can't help licking his lips.

"Ok."

Spike leans back again and resumes smoking, leaving Angel on the brim of his chair feeling incredibly stupid and...rejected? He sits back hurriedly, not knowing if he should stay or go. What the fuck is happening? He's being seduced? By Spike? That's just ridiculous. If anyone should be the seducer, it should be him. Not that he wants to seduce Spike. Does he? Suddenly Spike stands up and he can't help panicking. "You're going?"

Again that smile, then Spike runs his thumb over Angel's jaw ever so lightly. He can't help shivering. Why can't he help shivering?

"Just over to the bar to buy some fags, luv. Don't worry, I'll be back."

"I'm not worrying." Angel mutters, filling up his glass which once again seems to have emptied on its own. He follows Spike with his eyes, noticing the ease with which he chats to the bartender, flirts with the bartender...he's flirting with the bartender? Not that he cares, really. Spike can flirt all he wants...is that fuck giving Spike his phone number? The music drowns his growl but obviously not quite all because Spike suddenly turns around and looks at him. There's that smile again as he turns and shakes his head at the bar-whore and strolls back, taking off his duster and draping it over the extra chair before sitting down.

Angel can't help watching the way his muscles ripple under the t-shirt, which he now notices is pretty frayed and thin with wear. He looks down on his own clothes, which fit into this environment like a hooker in the White House and he feels a tug of guilt. Spike has tried to ask him for money a few times but he has always turned him down, without ever wondering where else he would get it. Not like he can steal off his victims anymore. He really should give him some money, dress him up... or down. No! Stop doing that! Stupid brain.

When he looks back up it's straight into Spike's eyes again.

"So about my little game. You ready?"

"I guess," Angel says reluctantly, not sure he likes where this is going.

"Right. Close your eyes."Spike waves his hand in front of Angel's face, making sure he's not peeking. "Now go back to that day in 1880. And don't say which day."

"You want me to bring back the memories of killing you?"

"Bring them back? Angel, they never went away, did they?"

"No."

"Anyway, it's not the killing I'm focusing on here. Now shut up and let me continue. Are you there yet?"

"Yes."

It doesn't take much effort. The noise in the club fades away along with the smell of sweat and sorrow. He's watching Drusilla from the shadows. She's drinking too fast, hurting the boy. But still there's hardly any fear in the air, instead the aroma of arousal is getting stronger. Angelus steps out, afraid that she will take too much. At that moment the boy looks up, blue eyes staring into his, and his moans get stronger. He's breathing heavily, but his gaze never falters. Angelus can hear his heart slowing and he knows it's time. He eases Dru off him, gently enough so she won't tear him further. She looks up at him, not understanding why he's taking away her prince but he doesn't care. This is something he wants, he needs. He'll deal with Dru later. He rips at his neck and cradles the boy in his arms, urging him to drink. When he latches on, it's with such force that Angelus can't help crying out. He lies back on the hay and for the longest time all he can feel is the drawing of his blood and the boy pressing against him. He forgets Drusilla; he forgets that Darla is waiting for him. His world consists of blood and sweet sweat, an erection pressing into his thigh and a hand gripping his arm...

"Angel? Are you listening? Are you passing out?" He opens his eyes with a shiver. Spike is squeezing his arm but there's no smile on his face this time, only a look of concern. "Mate, you had me worried there for a while. I hadn't even started and you just spaced out. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"I'm okay." Angel tries to stand up but he's still too drunk and the memory is making him woozy. For a while he stands there swaying before looking down at Spike who's watching him carefully, like he wants to be sure he can catch him if he falls. Which he finds a bit strange. "I want to play. I like this game."

"You do?" Spike can't help laughing a little. This was not how he pictured this would go. Must have been a long time since Angel last drank this much. The bottle is almost empty, and he's pretty sure he only had two glasses himself. "You almost fell of the chair, luv. Don't fancy carrying you home. Your pets will probably think I hurt you and stake me on sight."

"Then let’s go to your place. You do have a place, right?" Angel suddenly feels bad not knowing where his childe has spent his nights after becoming corporeal. "Not sleeping in the car, are you?"

"No, I have a place. Doyle...Lindsey put me up in this basement. No one's thrown me out yet." Spike puts on his duster and Angel finds himself wanting to tear it right off again. He looks down and, yes, it's up again. Damn.

"Don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us. Now come on." Spike grabs his arm again dragging him towards the door.

"Wait! We need more whiskey." Angel heads for the bar, throws some cash on the table and grabs another bottle. "Now we can go."

The cool night air sobers him up a bit but Spike feels good under his arm, so he fakes it a little and leans harder on him. They make their way through the alley to the car which still stands untouched. Spike manages to get Angel into the car with some difficulty. He walks over to the other side and gets in, looking over at Angel who's head is thrown back and eyes are closed. "You all right, mate?"

"Fine. Never been better."

"Right then."

It only takes about ten minutes and then they're at his place. As they stumble towards the door Spike can't help wishing the place wasn't so dreary. He opens the door reluctantly and they step in. Angel looks around then nods and walks over to the bed, takes off his jacket and sits down. "You mind?"

"No. I'll get us some glasses."

"Don't bother." Angel opens the bottle and takes a long drag before passing it over to Spike. He then shuffles until he's back against the headboard before relaxing and closing his eyes. Spike stands beside the bed with the bottle in his hand, not quite sure what to do. He considers walking over to the couch when Angel pats the bed beside him. "Hop in."

For a while he doesn't move, just stares down at Angel's face, trying to read something out of his expression but his eyes are closed and every muscle in his face is completely slack. At last Spike shrugs off his duster and eases onto the bed. Their thighs and shoulders are touching and he has to put his arm across his lap to keep from being too close. He has a feeling his game is being turned on him. Well, no matter, if the result is the same.

"Are you ready for a second try?"

"Yeah. ’M ready. Hit me."

"Okay. Keep your eyes closed. Go back to where you were before. Are you there yet?"

"Yeah. Barn. Dru. You."

"All right. Tell me what you smell."

"Hay. Your sweat. Your cum. Your tears." Angel's eyes open and he turns to stare at Spike. "You cried?"

"Well, yeah. Wasn't a very brave lad, remember. I might have wanted it, but then again I didn't really know what "it" was. Until it was too late." He sees the guilt creep into Angel’s face and changes the subject abruptly. "Your eyes aren't closed."

Angel closes them reluctantly, but he has a hard time getting back into the mood.

"Tell me what else you smell." Spike's voice is soft and comforting.

"My blood. Your blood. " And he's back again. The smell is so real that when he licks his lips he can taste it. The sensation makes him gasp and he can feel himself hardening again but this time he makes no move to conceal it.

Spike watches his reaction as he licks closed the nick on his finger. "How does my blood make you feel?"

"Lonely." He didn't want to say it but it's like he's hypnotized. He wonders if Spike did put something in his drink. Then he remembers they're drinking from the same bottle.

"Now or then?"

Spike's voice is laced with compassion, which sounds strange but oh so comforting. Angel longs to look at him to see if he's sincere or if that annoying smirk is on his face. But he doesn't, telling himself he's following the game. "Now."

"How did it make you feel then?"

"Hungry. Blissful. Wanted to ravish you. Fuck you to the ground." He hears a hitched breath by his ear, but he knows the rules by now and doesn't open his eyes. "I felt your body tensing; you grabbed my arm and squeezed so hard I had bruises for two days. You were so warm and I wanted to bathe in your heat, suck it into me. But instead you drank my coldness into your body, making it hard, making me even harder."

He can feel cool fingers stroking his neck but he doesn't know if they're real or part of his memory. "Finally I couldn't stand it any longer and sank my fangs into your neck, closing the circle. Not how it's supposed to be done, but I didn't care. It made us both come with such force I nearly blacked out. When I came to you were dead, but I knew you'd soon wake up. Dru was asleep by our side, having exhausted herself watching us."

Now the fingers are trailing down his chest so his shirt must be unbuttoned.

"What happened then?"

"I knew Darla would be waiting for me, so I told Dru to look after you... bury you. I gave your cold lips one last kiss before I left you in her arms. She was cooing over you like a mother hen and I felt jealous. But I had to go. When I got home Darla could smell another man on me and she went mad. If The Master hadn't been waiting for her she probably would have punished me more severely, but I got off lightly. Just a few cuts and bruises."

"I'm sorry, luv."

"No, Will. Don't be sorry, it was worth it. Oh God, was it ever worth it." He feels like he's falling into a dark abyss. There's nothing there except the smell of Will, the touch of his fingers, his cool tongue now licking his ear. He's not sure where he is any more. He thinks he's supposed to be in LA in the 21st century but he feels like it's London 1880. And he wants to stay there. Stay in a place where he has no guilt, no nightmares. Where the obnoxious Spike is his beautiful Will. Where their feelings of hate are no more, no more...

Spike lies staring at his Sire. This isn't what he intended. He actually isn't sure what he intended. He knows the purpose of the game is lost. He thought he'd be able to give Angel a happy, making him recall some of the good times. He was gonna remind him of his poofy hair, the stupid clothes, that chase they had through the woods which ended with wild animalistic mating. Those memories always made him happy but they only seem to make Angel sadder, reminding him of all the things he had.

His fingers trail over the broad chest, creeping lower and lower. He longs to feel him, feel his thick cock again resting in his hand. But Angel isn't quite there anymore and he feels he'd be violating him, and that's something he doesn't do... anymore. He actually seems to have completely forgotten Spike's presence. It feels so good though, lying here beside him, Spike thinks. It's been so long since he shared silence with anyone. He's felt so alone those past weeks. Who's he kidding; he's felt alone much longer than that. He can't help thinking how stupid this is, the two of them alone in separate corners. He wants to tell Angel they don't have to keep up this charade. It's tiring and stupid. He wants to tell him how it feels, coming back to this apartment every night...alone. But most of all he just wishes he could stay like this. Sighing, he slowly eases himself of the bed.

"Don't. Please don't go, Will." Angel's hand is gripping his arm. His eyes are still closed though and Spike wonders if he's talking in his sleep.

"I'm not him." And he turns away again. This is not his, this belongs to a man he hasn't been for a long time.

Angel's eyes flash open and stare at him. "What happened? Did you drug me?"

"No, Angel. You're just drunk." Spike sighs again. It seems they're back to accusing and abusing each other.

"No. It was so real. I could feel... " His eyes widen. "You! Why?"

"Because you needed it. Or possibly because I needed it. Doesn't matter. You go back to sleep. I'll take the couch."

"You don't have to, we can..."

"Yeah I do, and no we can't. 'S all right. You...sleep." He walks over to the couch and lies down, using his duster as a blanket. He hears Angel tossing and turning for a while, probably cursing the lumpy mattress. Finally everything goes quiet. But he can't sleep. Guess he'll be leaving in the morning.

\---------------------------------

Angel wakes up to the sound of breathing. He lies still, listening, afraid to wake him up. No one has slept in the same room as him since... Connor. For a moment he allows himself to remember him. Not as the angry teenager who hated him, but as the sweet and soft baby he was before everything went bad. His wrinkly little newborn face. His first smile. The way he would grab his finger and suck on it. How he giggled when daddy put on his game face. The sweet smell of baby sweat. Suddenly he feels cool fingers drying tears he didn't even know were showing.

"Shh, it's alright, luv. Whatever it is, just let it come."

And then he can't control himself any longer. He clings to Spike like he's his lost son come back to him. From deep within him, his long hidden grief forces it's way to the surface, filling the room with of inhuman sounds. Thick salty tears trickle down his cheeks. Spike can't help himself; his tongue catches them before they run down the chin. They taste like sorrow. He strokes Angel's hair, softly purring, mumbling words of comfort he knows won' t mean anything and for a long time they stay that way, entangled in each others' arms. He can feel his t-shirt getting wet and for some reason the line "monkey tears don't come out" enters his head, which is ridiculous because Angel's more of a puppy and why wouldn't they?

Finally Angel calms down, draws back and stares at him. It's still dark but they can see each other well enough. Suddenly the air feels hot and musky and their pupils widen. Spike is hit with a sudden need to get out and run as fast as he can, but Angel must have smelled his fear because he reaches out and draws him nearer. The kiss is rough at first but then it softens and he pulls him tighter, sneaks a tongue in and runs it over his teeth. After that there is no coherent thought anymore. All they can do is cling, touch, kiss and bite. It's fast and hard and feral. Angel flings Spike on his back, lifts his legs and only just makes time to bite into his wrist to make things slide a bit easier before pushing inside. The sensation makes them both howl but they don't have time to recover. They thrust and buck. Angel wants to devour him. Spike yearns to be filled until he splits. Nails claw into flesh, fangs bite down hard, blood spills. It's all over soon but the end is what they seek. And with matching howls they cry their release.

Afterwards, they lie panting in each others arms, covered in sweat, blood and cum. Angel's fingers start stroking Spike's back while the blond vampire's hand rests on Angel's belly. Both are wondering what the other is thinking. Suddenly Angel flinches and looks at his watch.

'Here we go', Spike thinks and wishes he had fallen straight asleep so he wouldn't have to watch Angel leave.

"It's two minutes to sunrise."

"Don't worry. I'm going. Just...let me breathe for a while." Spike tries to slide from his arms but Angel's strong hands pin him down.

"Spike."

"Yeah?"

"I said there were still two minutes left." His face splits by the widest grin imaginable. "So where are we gonna buy leather pants at this hour?" 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Leather and Lube](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643298) by [felisblanco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco)




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